Territory
by fearord2
Summary: Ryan doesn't know how he will fit with the Cohens, and Seth helps him move in on a permanent basis. Even deep discussions can be helped along with a little humor.


Territory

by fearord

setting: Set in early season 1

pairing: R/S

disclaimer: these guys aren't mine. they belong to the OC and all who created them. I just pull them apart to find out how they tick.

Rating: PG

Seth set the bags down on the bed in the poolhouse. He opened them, considered. Pulled out the packages, threw them down, opened up the contents.

Ryan walked in. "What are you doing?"

"Moving you in, obviously"

Ryan was silent. "You just put clean underwear on the floor."

"Where it belongs."

"Ah." Ryan smiled. "Exactly how?"

"Well, I have this underwear theory. Want to hear it?" Seth asked, smiling.

"Umm. Does that matter?" Ryan said.

"Depends. If you want the answer to affect my actions, probably not. But if you say "yes," you may get what you want, and that is almost always worthwhile."

"Ah."

Seth turned towards Ryan. "You say that a lot."

"Yes."

"Ah. So, underwear. I feel that whenever you want to claim a space as your own, nothing says it like underwear. Underwear says, 'hey, this is my space, I can do whatever I want'. It's kinda like when a dog pees, except without the smell. At least not so much. Point is, no one is going to touch your underwear once you have thrown it on the floor, right?"

Ryan looked unconvinced. "It's clean."

Seth replied, nonplussed, "Rosie doesn't know that. From her point of view, it is fully broken in. She'll do it if you put it in the basket," he paused, pointing, "but on the floor? That's a no-go. I learned that about 10 years ago. So this'll do until…"

"Until I put some of mine on the floor?" Ryan asked.

"Exactly."

"I can't leave my underwear on the floor." Ryan bent and picked the clean boxers up, and stacked them on the bed.

"Why not? Your room."

Ryan's expression turned unreadable, a little hazy, just for a second. He pushed his hair up out of his eyes. "Not really. Your mom—she's great—but, she, uh, she…"

"Hasn't really rolled out the welcome mat? She just bought you $150 worth of boxers and boxer briefs. She knows your underwear size. That makes exactly 3 men in this world whose underwear size she knows. Maybe four, if she knows my grandfather's, but I'm seriously not thinking about that. Plus, she bought you socks and she bought you a new pair of shoes. For my mother to buy shoes for anyone but herself implies a major commitment."

"But she did that because she felt sorry for me."

Seth's smile faded. "Dude. My mother doesn't feel sorry. She decides; she acts. Her words may not reflect this yet, but take it from me as the Cohen spokes-model: you can leave your underwear wherever you want. If you were out, you would have _stayed _out when she put you out the first time. My dad knows better."

Ryan was silent, and put the clothes back in the sack, put the sack in the corner with his backpack. Seth walked behind him and touched his shoulder.

"Ryan—" Seth started.

"What do you want me to say, Cohen?" Ryan turned roughly and then moved away from Seth's hand. "What do you want me to say? I like it here. Things I like don't usually stick around."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"That's not what I meant. And you can't go anywhere, you live here."

"I went for you when you were gone."

"Look, Cohen, you see, but you don't see what I see. You don't understand."

"No, Ry. You don't understand. I don't care if your mom left you. I don't care if your family sucks. I don't care how tough you are. Although, let it be known, I am impressed. I mean, Luke and all, not that I don't have my own moves. I don't care about any of that. You stood by me after I thought the worst of you. I can name the other people who have done _that _for me on the fingers of…of a fish." Seth paused. "Ok, image gone wrong, but you know what I mean. You stood by me. I ditched you, you took me back before you even knew who I was. So, your family? I don't care about any of it. My family doesn't suck, at least not completely. Since you've been here, I've been pretty glad to be a Cohen. So you don't understand, Ryan. Stay, go, leave, whatever, but you live here, dude. You live here."

"And my moves _are_ good," Seth added. "Or they are when they have you to back them up, see? I do see."

Ryan pulled his shirt off. "Let's go swimming."

"Don't change the subject, Ryan."

"I'm not."

Ryan threw his shirt on the floor and grabbed the swim trunks off the shelf.

Seth raised his eyebrows and did the same.


End file.
